


The Room

by rinkle



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-08
Updated: 2006-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkle/pseuds/rinkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wasn't afraid of a room in her own city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Room

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** The Room  
>  **Author** : Rinne  
>  **Spoilers:** None  
>  **Rating:** Teenage  
>  **Disclaimer:** Don't own anything, not being paid.  
>  **Authors Notes:** Huge thanks to starrylizard for betaing this one. Written for a prompt of: bloody fingerprints smeared on the light plate.  
>  **Summary:** She wasn't afraid of a room in her own city.

* * *

It was six weeks and one day before she could walk past the room.

It wasn't like she was intentionally avoiding it. It was more efficient to use another corridor; she got more exercise if she went down a few levels and then back up. The person in charge of Atlantis couldn't be late, or unfit. She wasn't intentionally avoiding it.

She didn't think anyone had noticed, not until that day. She had been walking with Rodney, he was telling her all about some new discovery to do with zero point energy that he had made. She hadn't even noticed that they were taking that corridor; she was so busy trying to follow Rodney's excitable hand movements. It wasn't until they were outside the room that she had realised. Rodney just continued walking, not appearing to notice anything amiss, making her feel guilty for her flash of anger. He hadn't done it intentionally. Rodney wasn't that good an actor that she wouldn't have seen the tell; it was just a twist of fate.

Her eyes had lingered on the door as they walked past, trying to understand why it looked like any other door, why it wasn't marked separate from every other in Atlantis. It was so innocuous, so ordinary. It could have been the door to her quarters, the infirmary, any ordinary storeroom in the city.

She had made some excuse to Rodney once they had reached their destination; he hadn't really seemed to notice her preoccupation, just launched himself into an argument with Radek. She slipped out of the room and walked back to the corridor, stopping where she could see the door, not able to go further.

It was just like any other door.

She walked away.

* * *

It was eight weeks and three days before she could stand outside the room.

She forced herself to walk to the room. Her body wanted to resist her every inch of the path, but after the way that Carson had looked at her, she had to do it. She got the feeling that he had somehow set her up that day with Rodney, and it scared her that he could see this _avoidance_ in her. She was the leader of Atlantis, damnit; she couldn't be afraid of a room in her own city.

She wasn't afraid of a room in her own city.

The fact that her body didn't seem to agree with her didn't reassure her. There was nothing to be scared of; it was just another room. But she had to close her eyes, trying to centre herself, trying to convince herself. She finally put one shaking hand out and quickly touched the door, before snatching the hand back as if it had been burnt. Her breathing was rapid and uncontrolled as she turned around and hurried away.

She had just remembered that her plant needed watering.

The fact that it could go several days without water was beside the point.

* * *

It was nine weeks before she could open the door.

She would really just have to avoid Carson for the rest of their stay here. Somehow, the man made her feel guilty without saying anything. It was like he knew that whenever she took that corridor she hurried past the room, staying as far away from it as possible. He must be in collusion with the city, having it spy on her. It just didn't seem fair, being ganged up on by the city and her doctor. She really had to deal with this before she started thinking that the city was out to get her. A delusional leader never ended well, for anyone involved. Neither did a coward.

She walked boldly to the door, ignoring the tremble in her hands and the sweat on her palms. She slowly put her hand on the door, surprised to find it was warm to the touch - she had expected it to be cold. Her hand stuck slightly to the door as she lifted it away, leaving a wet imprint that quickly evaporated. She shuddered, seeing red in its place.

Before she could change her mind, she passed her hand over the sensor to open the door. It slid open smoothly, revealing a dark room. She hesitated at the threshold, one foot halfway into the room. Her fear rose, swamping all rational thought and she fled.

She told herself that she wasn't afraid of the dark.

She slept with her light on.

* * *

It was nine weeks and one day before she entered the room.

She'd had enough.

She was sick of the fear ruling her; it would end today. She walked steadily to the room, passed her hand over the door sensor and stepped inside. The door shut behind her, leaving her in darkness.

She could hear her breathing, loud and unrestrained, in the room that extended to infinity. Dark shapes loomed, reminding her of nights not wanting to go to the bathroom as a child.

Darkness was the absence of light, and she was nothing if not enlightened. She had spent all her life learning; learning languages, learning about human behaviour, learning about cultures, learning how to be what she needed to be. Only in the absence of light could fear really take root.

She passed her hand over the light plate, gently resting her hand on it. It was smooth and cool underneath her palm. There were no bloody fingerprints to smear its perfection.

Not her blood.

The light was harsh, making her blink until she adjusted. She saw the box she had hidden behind, and other boxes that had been decorated with a brave man's blood as she'd moved as far away from the door as she could. Blood that was on her hands, that was trailed from the corridor.

She walked slowly to the box that had sheltered her, noting that it held spare batteries for their laptops. She sank down behind the box, taking in the view that she'd only seen briefly in the light before.

There was nothing to be afraid of here, she suddenly realised. She was safe. He had made sure of that. A part of him was here in this room, and would always be. There may be no visual record, but his soul had sunk into the very walls, even though he'd likely never stepped foot in the room.

She'd just sit for a while. Nobody would miss her if she stayed a little longer, and Carson would be proud of her.

She heard the door open and close again, and Carson sat beside her.


End file.
